I feel healed and healthy and happy... I feel in charge of my life... but I am afraid (perhaps unnecessarily so) of the resurgence of memories associated with May 18th. I am afraid of the scary stuff. I am afraid of the pit that settles in my stomach when I think about that day. It's a flashback problem. A remembrance of sadness. I can feel myself worrying already about my emotions on Monday.
Knowing myself as I do, the two most difficult parts will be 1) going to sleep on Sunday night alone, thoughts tumbling around in my head and 2) waking up on Monday morning alone, remembering what that day held for me last year, remembering all it represents, feeling alone. I have kicked fear to the curb so many times this past year - and it's been one hell of a year - but I'm afraid of Sunday night into Monday morning. There is something about being alone with the heaviness of such a tragedy that makes a person feel helpless.
I don't want to re-live that day. But almost as though there is a sentence or a deadline, I know I will. And I can't stop that... and I am afraid.
A date has no power over me. I am bigger and stronger than any day, no matter how significant. But still... it's my first time... and I am scared.
It's a vulnerable weekend here upon me. I can't believe it's here. I made it...almost.